Affection Trancends Species
by Chubs34
Summary: Their is no boundary to friends. No walls. Not race, not gender, not even species. For a War-Torn Spartan-II, he finds a friend in one of the former enemy. An Elite, who's also lost someone close. All courtesy of the Coveneant Wars.
1. Signals

Hello, reader. I'm Chubs. Good to meet you. The song offered is for you to open either a new window or a new tab, Ipod, or whatever, and listen to the song presented. Not a songfic. Songs: Couldn't think of any. Sorry.

O

The Spartan closed his eyes. The sound of a Pelican dropship's engines filled his ears. He rotated his shoulders, stretching. He rolled his neck, able to since his helmet was off. He sighed in relief at the popping joints. He heard the pilot's warning of half a minute till landing. He opened his amber eyes and looked down at his Magnum. He checked it, making sure the sights were alighned, the clip was in correctly, but he didn't need to.

He was a Spartan-II. He did this in his sleep.

He holstered the rifle to his back, the magnetized metal holding it firmly. Under his arm was his helmet. He put it on, and heard a hiss as it pressurized. The HUD came into life, and showed him his energy shield's power level. Full. He checked everything else, and it turned out green. He did this all out of habit. It was what he did in the wars, all of his battles with Captain Cutter, a man who he looked infinitely up to, despite being a foot taller. Him and the crew of the Spirit of Fire. Beautiful ship. But not the time for that now.

The door opened, and his team piled out. They wore their normal armor colors. This was an Infection simulation. Though, not really a simulation, they were physically there, but no deaths occured. The map was one of High Ground, but had fortifications. Closeable doors. Once he hit the ground, he raised his pistol to the position he was trained to. Some of the other Spartans held theirs with one hand, at their sides. Lazy fucks, those Spartan-III's.

He ran to the nearest building entrance, and took a grasp of the barrier to be used as a door. Most of them came inside, but a few lingered. "Last chance to get inside. Take it or leave it." 43 said. None answered, so he shook his head, getting ready to push. But he saw the sapphire and crimson Elite running, trying to get inside. He fought the urge to pump a few Magnum rounds. As much as it made him uneasy, they were allies.

Once the Elite passed, he tapped on the shoulder. He turned his head, and saw him place his fist to his chest, and bow his head. Craig cocked his head, but realized this was an Elite gesture. He swiped across his helmet with two fingers, giving him he Spartan "Smile." Being raised as soldiers, they learned to hide their emotions. The Elite nodded and ran back, wanting a weapon.

Spartan-43 followed close behind. After the unnamed Elite picked up his, he did the same. A Battle Rifle and a Shotgun. He saw a turret, but decided against using it. As much as he loves to show that he's two tons of armor, it'd be a waste to use it so soon. He sprinted up to the opening and crouched, ready for the zombie to show up. It had already passed, but someone would probably kill it.

His HUD showed him that someone got infected, and that someone killed another. So it basically meant that the zombie got someone, but was killed immediately after. Nice going, Spartan-III. Nice going.

He sighed, and aimed down the scope. He saw the two new infected run past, but didn't fire. It was pointless. In any training, they had to get back to a "Respawn" area to get back to the action. It was behind a rock, so he couldnt be a huge dick and fire the second the ran out. He saw one pop out, and he fired, "Killing" him instantly. In this sim, apparently they had no shields, but could run and jump better. What fun.

"Hey, Sarcasm, you coming up here? Last call." He heard over his comm. The voice of an Elite. He turned and saw the one who gestured him bending over the rails. He shook his head no. The Elite moved his fist, but stopped. He swiped two of his fingers over his helmet's front. 43 smiled and put his fist to his chest plate, bowing his head. As he ran off, 43 smiled even wider.

They did each other's signs.

A/N

This is a romance story, through and through. It's between a female Elite and male Spartan, so...yeah. I promise, I'll make it worthwile, not like others. Others where it's male Elite and female human, and turns out the Elite is nice. None of THAT bullshit here. This'll actually make some sense. SO review, let me know what you think.


	2. Warming up

Read, enjoy, review. This is sorta part two of the first chapter. So in all, about 2.3k words.  
>Songs: None.<p>

O

That sim took about ten minutes, and landed Spartan-43 about thirty kills. Though, none really counted. This was more just friends hanging out. They moved onto another infection game, and it was just a basic "Save One Bullet" scenario. Once it started, he ran for a closed corridor. He easily found one, and pressed his back against the wall, ready to give it his all. He held his Shotgun at his shoulder, looking down the sights.

After a few minutes, something popped up on his motion tracker. It was yellow, so he instinctively crouched. The Elite stepped out. "May I join you?" He asked. 43 let go of the pump and flashed two index fingers. Another Spartan sign. He quickly approached, going to 43's left. It was quiet for a few minutes, the occansional infection popping up. The Elite broke the silence.

"So. How long have you been a Spartan?" He didn't respond. He tried again. "Don't you think we'll get the 'Last Man Standing' marker?" 43 shook his head. "Why not?" _Persistent alien, _43 thought. He sighed, giving into the questions.

"Because there are two of us. As long as you and me aren't infected, there won't be the waypoint."

"Don't talk too much, do you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because. Easier to signal."

"That can't always explain everything." He said, lowering his Carbine. "You had to verbally respond to my question."

"So?"

"Well...Since you've answered my questions, I'll answer yours." 43 didn't really feel like it, but since it'd be a while till they came, he decided to humor him.

"Fine. What rank are you?"

"In yours, I'm just below Surgeon. Which I think is a medic..."

"I think you mean: 'Seargeant.' Which makes you a Corporal."

"Yes! And yours?"

"Gunnery Seargeant." 43 felt as if he should introduce himself. "I'm Gunnery Seargeant Sarcasm."

He cocked his head. "Strange name. I've heard of ones like...'Miranda Keyes' or something like that."

"That's my rank...and nickname." He looked hopelessly confused, head cocked. "A nickname is what some people call you. I got mine for my humor."

"Spartans have humor? I thought you were all stoic."

"You thought wrong. That's just the Chief making us all look like that. He's the only one of us who is like that. With no personality. The rest of us...well, before they were killed, all had personalities."

"I see." He said, tone understanding. "So...what is your _real_ name?"

He hesitated. But he decided this'd help getting used to the change. There were a good number of Elites at the base. The base was really just a Pelican hub with barracks. Used to send Spartans to training grounds, keep some sharp, and train others.

"My name is Craig Cogburn."

"I like it. The way it...the way you say it is interesting. Craig Cogburn." He repeated.

"So, what's yours? I'm guessing something that in your culture describes how much of a warrior you are, how all the...Elite-ettes are all over you."

"No, he-he, quite the contrary. Actually, I'm...I'm female." Craig's eyes widend behind his helmet, and he blushed. Thank God he..._she_ couldn't see it. He tried to check for signs, but was in vain. All he could tell was that she wore a Flight Helmet, a Combat pauldron on her right shoulder, a Commando pauldron on her left, with the Ascetic chest-guard. And her colors were sapphire and crimson, the former the main, the latter the secondary, and detail.

"I...uh...I'm q-quite sorry about that..." He stuttered, bewildered. "I just...couldn't tell..."

"It's fine." She assured. "I get that often. I bet you're wondering on how I got here?"

"Yes, but I feel we have more important matters. I think we're about to have company..." Craig warned, noticing that his motion tracker had a few red dots on it. The Sparan, who had the C.Q.B. helmet, as well as the rest of the armor on. Uncreative idiot. He charged, and unwittingly was shot down by Craig's magnum.

"I found 'em! They're in that corridor over by the Mongoose!" The duo heard over their comms. Craig sighed.

"We're fucked." He finall delcared. His tone made it seem as if he just stamped the official status document with the official "Fucked" stamp.

She cocked her head. "I really don't think we're going to mate anytime. If anything, we're going to be killed."

"I, uh...the way I used it is to describe that we're going to be taken down. Where did you hear that?" He questioned, turning to face her.

"Well, I heard some humans talking about it. They were using it more in the: "Oh yeah, baby, fuck me" term I think..." Craig couldn't help but chuckle. How could he not? Hearing an Elite talk like that was downright hilarious.

It took about two more minutes before they both ran out of ammo, and were killed. They all climbed on the Pelican to return to base. It took two trips, and the female Elite he spoke to was on the second trip. So he decided to go eat lunch. A bit late, but there were still people there. He opted against the free lunch the U.N.S.C. offered, grabbing a can of beans. He opened it with his knife he kept in his boot, set his helmet on the table, and took a spoonfull into his mouth.

He got another few spoons before he saw the Elite walk in. She was obviously a bit shy to sit, so he waved to her. She was obviously looking for him, as her hemlet quickly shifted to his hand. She grabbed a tray, got some food, and walked over. But not without a few glares from some of the grudged Marines.

"Craig." She greeted. He nodded to her. "What are you eating?" He flipped the can around, showing her. She made a noise of understanding. He could just tell. "Still don't talk much?" He shook his head. "And here I thought I got someone to help me understand." Now he was curious.

"Understand what?"

"You humans. Ever since the...the war started, I've wanted to know what the dreaded humans were like. Why were they so bad? And now I have the chance to do so, and not a single one will give me the benefit of the doubt." He shrugged in agreement.

"I'll tell you. But I need one thing." She leaned forward, excited. "I never got your name." He said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Did I? Hmm. Well, my name is Veru 'Thamalee."

Craig nodded. "Veru 'Thamalee." He repeated. "Interesting on the way it just flows."

"Thank you." She was apparently ready to eat, so she took off her helmet. It hissed as it de-pressurized. He cocked his head in interest. Maybe it was in the head, the difference between the genders. Nope. She placed it on the table. "I...I like your armor..."

"You do? Most say it's too bulky, but they're _also_ Spartan-III's."

"You're not? And what does that mean?"

"No. I'm one of the few -if not only- remaining Spartan-II's. There's the Chief-"

"But he died."

"Something just tells me he's alive. It's hard to kill a badass like that. And the III's aren't as good. Retreat was not an option for II's. It is for them."

"I see. What does 'Badass' mean?"

"It's a term used to describe someone who does things over-the-top. Not a show-off, but...more heroic."

"Ah. Thank you for explaining."

"It's nothing." He said, then realized he actually had a pleasent conversation with an Elite. Not just that, but a conversation with him saying more than a few words at a time! That was a big deal for him!

"So, what does your food taste like?" She asked, trying to continue talking to him.

"It's...it'd be easier to show you." He said, taking a load of the beans and holding them out. She leaned in, mandibles spread wide, and took the metal utensil in her maws. She spilled a few on the table, and Craig couldn't help but chuckle and smile a bit. She made a noise that he could tell was laughter, and a bit embaressed at that. "It's alright, don't worry. I'll get it." He said, picking up a napkin and wiping them from the table, and some of the mild sauce from her mandibles.

She made another noise that was relatable to purring, and he looked taken aback. "Sorry..." She trailed off, and sunk back. "It's just...I'm a bit...well, happy."

"Why?" He asked. All he did was wipe her.

She began to get up, done with her food. "Because." She pasued a second. "I've made a friend."


	3. Birds of a Feather

Hey guys. Read the reviews, saw where people saw errors, and I'm making it a point to correct those. Let's hope I improve. Then again, I could revert it to the style of my first story: "Forgiven?" So there's always _that_ option. My Co-Author/Brainstormer is my bro, Brian.  
>Songs: Dim the Lights, We are Fucked by Two Steps from Hell<p>

O

As they walked to the next Pelican landing pad to go to the next simulation, Craig thought about Veru. He liked the way her name was pronounced. Had to roll the "R" in the first name, and in her last the second "A" was heavily pronounced. So it sort of sounded like "Thumb-ALL-EE." Very intruiging.

Once they had made it to the hub, they could see the scenario on-screen. A Capture-The-Flag on CTF Valhalla. "Ooh, this one. Exciting." He said, his tone laced with sarcasm.

"What makes it like that?" She asked. He looked right to find her head twisted in a questioning look. Apparently gestures were universal.

"It's actually not."

She looked a bit confused. "Then why did you say it was?" She asked. He could hear the anger in her voice.

"It's sarcasm. It's why I'm Seargeant Sarcasm. Due to my bitingly sarcastic nature. Not humor. What was I thinking?" He asked himself.

"I...don't think I can answer that for you."

He looked taken aback. "That was a rhetorical question." A blank stare. Or, atleast what he could tell from her Flight Helmet's blank stare. "It's a question that doesn't need to be answered. It's kind of like when you think to yourself: 'Where did I leave that thing?'" She nodded in understanding. Craig looked to the clock. Not enough people yet.

For a few moments, it was an awkward silence. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. She started the conversation, he was still thinking of something. "I like your armor. Most of you Spartans don't even bother." She said, looking at first at Craig, then the others. There were a few who had something other than the Mark VI, but at least half had it. Craig was different. He had a oddly-shaped helmet on, with large, bulky shoulders. His chest armor was rather ornate, and a blade was strapped across his back.

He felt flattered for the compliment. He smiled behind his E.O.D. Helmet. He shrugged his Security Pauldron-clad shoulders. His Hayabusa armored chest rose, since he got the Katana add-on because he was a veteran. She watched each guesture, stufying them. _This must be the way Humans show pride._ "Thanks. Way back I was the heavy weapon specialist of my team. Or, I just loved to use a Gatling Gun. Though, I'm still damn good with everything else. Give me a Battle Rifle, and I'm happy. My motto was: 'We're two tons of armor, let's take advantage of it!'"

She made that "Chuckling" nosie again. He smiled beneath his helmet. "Yes. In the Pilot's division, we had to take a sidearm, just in case. I always chose a Carbine. Most chose a 33-GML, but I-" She began to lecture, but was stopped by Craig.

"What's a 33-GML?" He asked, a finger raised in quetion. She looked taken aback once more.

"It's a Gudied Munitions Launcher." She recieved nothing in response, excluding the blank look. "It has needles on top?" She suggested, holding her hand in a one-handed weapon position, her left hand hovering over it.

"Ah! You mean a Needler?" She cocked her head.

"Is _that_ what you humans called it?" She asked, her tone a bit disbelieving.

"Well...yeah. We generally name things by what we see them as. We called the blue handheld gun a 'Plasma Rifle'..."

"A 25-DER?" She asked. He looked at her blankly. "Oh right, sorry. Heh-heh. A Directed Energy Rifle." She said, rubbing the back of her neck.

"I see." He looked up at the clock. A few more people, and it'd be set. "As you were saying with the sidearm?"

"Well, I always went with a Carbine. The others went with 33-GML's. I guess because of the heat seeking spikes it made it easy to kill. But it wasn't meant for long conflicts. It was meant for shock troopers, who could ambush the enemy. The Carbine has a scope, is semi-automatic, and is relatively light. Wich means if I were to crash my Seraph, and I would be stuck in a forest, I could go for quite some time."

"Ah. So you're a pilot?"

"Yes." She stated proudly. "I got in by my bondmate's recommendation. He told his Commanding Officer I had the reflexes of a pilot. He let me try, and turns out I had what you humans would call a 'Knack' for it. So I was made a pilot. Of course seeing as I'm female, I was placed on a rarely-used vehicle, so I was assigned to a Seraph. I wasn't called upon often, obviously, but when I was, it was to cover the Phantom that held my bondmate and his fellow Rangers."

"Sounds like you had an amazing...what did you call him?"

"A bondmate."

"Ah. So, what's a bon-" He said, but was cut off by the Pelican pilot speaking over the comm.

"File in! It's time to go!"

Craig turned to his friend. "It's time." He flicked his head back and walked up to the Pelican. He bumped into a Spartan-III with rust colored armor.

"Sorry." He quickly said without looking at Craig, and jumped up into the Pelican. Craig shook his head and muttered somehting about no respect, and climbed on. He extended a hand to Veru, and she climbed on. The duo walked into the back. The ride'd take a few minutes.

"Spartan," She asked, "why does your armor look different from the others?"

He looked around. Then at his armor. "I'm a Spartan-II. We were trained at different times, so they have suits with more bells and whistles." She sighed softly, and he remembered that she didn't understand human figures of speech. "That means it's just fancier. Flashy." She seemed to understand. Craig pulled out his Battle Rifle and sat down. She pulled out her Carbine and did the same. It wasn't very easy sitting with an armament on your back.

As the Pilot alerted them of the nearing, Craig prepped himself for combat. He regulated his breathing. The conditioned air from his suit's enviroment lock was cold and fresh. He closed his eyes and went through the Spartan code of checking his rifle.

First the sights. He shouldered his rifle and looked down the scope. It lined up with the sights on the gun.

Second the clip. He pressed the button to eject the clip and checked the mag. Full. He slammed it back in, and cocked it.

Third was to get to know your rifle. He didn't need to do this, but it was habit. Something to keep the memory of Betty alive. _Betty...not now._ He did a testing rifle-butt. The motion was second nature to the Gunnery Seargeant. That little move saved his ass more than once with Elites or Brutes who got a little too close for comfort. _Fucking Brutes...outta kill them all for what they did to Betty...Damn it!_ He mentally slapped himself for letting his mind slip to her.

The door opened. This was for their team. Craig got up and walked out calmly. Veru, after a moment of staring trying to figure out what prompted her friend to do that, followed. The III who bumped into the II also got out. His Sniper Rifle's stand waved a little bit from the motion.

"Hey, Veru, you said you were a pilot?" Craig quesitoned, and she nodded. "Well, time to show me your skills." He said, and motioned for her to follow. He ran around a corner and when she rounded it, she stopped. It was Hornet. She was a pilot for dropships.

"I'm not sure-"

"Try. If you could pilot a Spirit, then you can pilot this." He ordered, jumping on the side. She shook her head, but still complied, getting in. She turned it on, and got to a suitable altitude. As they flew from the Forerunner Tower closer to the beach, Craig couldn't help but notice a red beam on the Hornet. He tried shooting at the origin, but it was no use. They were screwed. He closed his eyes in preperation for his armor locking up, noting him that he was "Killed".

It never came.

He looked, and the Laser-weilder was sprawled on the ground, Laser on the ground. He got up and walked back to his respawn zone. "You're welcome?" A voice suggested. It was...vaguely familiar.

"Yeah, uh...thanks." Craig said over his comm. Veru heard the sniper puff, obviously dissapointed with the appreciation of the ass-saving.

"Spartan, E.T.A. to drop off: five seconds. Craig counted down, prepping for the jump. Once he got to fie, he closed his eye and pushed himself off the Hornet. He jumped out onto the enemy's base and grabbed their flag. Veru couldn't lower, too much fire. She had to pull back and fire, keeping Seargeant Sarcasm safe. He ordered her to come a lttle closer, and turn the ship around. She did, and Craig charged boldly to the Man Cannon. He flew, and and reached for the Hornet.

It grew closer and closer...meters...yards...feet...NOW!

He grabbed for it with his free hand, and couldn't look. He felt himself contact something hard, and his feet lock into place. The magnetic plates in the boots made sure that Spartans -nor Marines- fell off. It worked!

"You haven't changed a bit, Cogburn. Still a badass. Crazy mo-fo, but still. Badass."

O

The rest of the sim went a bit boringly, Veru was shot down after Spartan-43 returned with the flag. The rest of the blue team, through some well-planned diversionary tactics, managed to capture another flag, and when it was their turn to defend, the majority of the team followed some orders -though it was more like him only suggesting them- and they sucessfully defended their flag. The Pelican ride home was fulled with shouts, high-fives, and laughs. Well, atleast for the Spartans and Elites in blue. For the red...the same couldn't be said.

Some of the Spartans, back at base, were talking to Craig, as they'd figured out he was a Spartan-II. He was the last one, really. All the others, either Spartan-III's or IV's. Veru couldn't help but feel her heart, both of them, drop a little at the thought of having everyone she'd known and loved were dead.

But with the rough-bearded man was taking it in stride. He was smiling, giving tips, little things that could "Make or Break a fight". She wandered off and stumbled into a trio of Elites. All male. The two flanking the first wore sort of basic armor, just Assault and Combat. In reality, it was just the Assault chest armor, the rest Combat. She couldn't help but chuckle under he breath at the uncreativity of them.

The first, however...he was interesting. He wore a Combat helmet, as most did, his pauldrons were both Commando, and his chest impressed Veru. An Ascetic. She removed her Flight helmet. "Ripa 'Trantat." She answered coldy.

"Veru 'Thamal! How are you?" He asnwered. If he were speaking to a human, he'd have an even icyer tone than she did to him.

"Fine. I need to get to training-"

"What's one scenario?" He bolsted. "Talk with me for a while, why don't you?"

"I'm busy." She turned and began to walk away, not even wanting to deal with him, but he interruted her walk.

"With you human friend?" She turned back around to find Ripa spreading his mandibles widely, making an impossibly wide human smile. She growled silently. "I know what you're doing. You will not consort with them. I forbid it."

"You _forbid me_?" She asked. "Who in the Light of Sanghelios do you think you are? My bondmate?"

"You and I both know you want me as a consort. Face it." He boasted. Her eyes narrowed. He was a Swordsmen. They weren't allowed to marry due to their genes, so they were prized as mates. And he was the only one around. She shoved him away.

"Piss off." The female Sanghelli stated, imitating a human she'd heard say that. She heard Ripa roar and an Energy Sword blare into life. She turned and only barely missed the swipe. She landed on the ground, and he raised it. She closed her eyes.

She heard metal bang against metal, and opened them. Lying beside her was a familiar tan and blue E.O.D. helmet on its side. An also familiar tan armored figure was hunched over, facing a reeling Ripa 'Trantat. She felt her spirits rise.

Craig was in a boxing style pose, right fist in front of the other. He scanned his foes. One red Elite, right side. One blue Elite, left. Gold, middle. Flanking ones look new, not much resistance. Gold means a Zealot, or at least a Swordsmen. Fuck. Focus on Goldilocks, then two others. Non-helmeted, watch for hits aimed at head.

He noted the glowing Energy Sword in Goldilocks's hand. Disarm it. He stepped forward and took a jab at the Elite's hand, which was raised in anger. It connected, and his training told him to leave it for a second to let the force transfer. As reflex, the Elite loosened his grip, and it fell. The deadly little fuck deactivated after it left the grip, making it harmless. Spartan-43 smiled. He then kicked the sword away, seeing Goldilocks scramble for it. It skittered until it hit the wall.

Now for the others. He staggered witha solid punch to the jaw. It didn't break the reinforced bone, nothing did, but it still hurt. Craig grunted in pain as a multi-jointed leg sweep-kicked his feet from under him and he landed on his back. The red and blue Elites took their chance and began to go to town on Craig. Then Veru saw a flash of brown with a long rifle run up and crack it over the back of the red Elite's head.

The other looked up, noticing that his friend was gone, only to be grounded by the butt of a Sniper Rifle. They scrambled away and stood, facing a Spartan-III, standing with his Sniper rifle held like a club, with the barrel in hands. They had a little stand off, letting Goldilocks and Craig duke it out solo.

They stood at across from one another, Craig still in a boxer's pose, Ripa in the normal Sanghelli fighting stance. He jumped up, raising his four-fingered fist into the air, and trying to slam it down. Craig jumped straight at him, tackling him. He proceeded to face-pound Ripa, until an old man in a drab gray officer uniform ran up, pushing Veru aside.

"Cogburn! Briscoe! All of you, stand down! At once!" As soon as Craig heard the voice, he jumped up and went into a perfect Attention stance.

"Sir, yes, Captain Cutter, Sir." He answered, still holding still. The sniper was more reluctant, unwary of his oponenets, but he eventually did come into attention.

"This is not the way we handle problems! I expected more out of you. You're soldiers, not civillians. Especially you, Craig." The Spartan-in-question turned his eyes away in shame. Ripa got up, and looked as if he were to attack Captain Cutter, but the hardest, most vicous of glares stayed his hoofs. "Now, both of you, shake hands, and put this behind you. There's been enough bloodshed between our species. Already a wide ravine. Let's stop adding to it." And with that, the man that Craig Cogburn respected the most left. After, of course, Ripa 'Trantat and he shook hands.

It ended there. Though grumbling all the way as the two parties seperated could be faintly heard. Craig finally turned to the Spartan-III that assisted him, if not saved his ass.

"Thanks, I appreciate it. I'm-"

"Oh, I know who you are, Gunnery Seargeant." He exclaimed. "But you remember me?" Craig gave him a blank look. "Guess not." He said, then removed his helmet. Craig's expression changed from an annoyed one to one of suprise, shock, and joy.

"Crow! Crow fucking Briscoe!" He exclaimed. "It's been too long!" He said, then raised a hand, palm facing himself. Crow took it and they pulled each other in. They were both smiling widely. "It's great to see you! Where've you been?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Sir."

"Ah, don't call me 'Sir'. The Brass, because I went into retirement, placed me at Corporal. I've had to work my way up."

"You'll always be my CO, Craig."

"Thanks. Means a lot. So, what's your rank, kid?"

"Warrant Officer."

"Good for you!"

"Who's the Elite?" Crow asked, flicking his head to Veru, who took the liberty of answering.

"I am Veru 'Thamal. It is my honor to meet a comrade of Craig's." She said, the did the motion where she bowed her head and put a fist to her chest. Both Spartans thought it was a bit much.

"Relax. It's not like I'm a Shipmaster. And I know how high that is. I've figured out your ranking system. Sorta." She cocked her head and asked how. "See these different tally marks on my rifle? Well, they stand for-" He started proudly, showing her the stock, but was cut off by Craig.

"Oh God, not _this_ story again!" He exclaimed, pressing his fingers into his eyes.

"Hey, if it weren't for _this_ tally-" Crow pointed to one tally, "-then that Zealot'd shove he blade up your ass!"

"I had the situtation completely under control." The tan and blue Spartan defended. "And Silent Night'd be a twisted scrap if I hadn't stopped the Cheiftan from making pulp out of you!" Before the arguement could continue, Veru had question, and when she had a question, she got fucking answers.

"WAIT!" She exclaimed. "What is this 'Silent Night'?"

"It's what I named my baby right here." Crow hefted his rifle upwards a bit. "Remember Craig? The motto?"

"Aw jeez. 'This is my rifle. There are many like it but this one is special because this one is mine.'" They chanted together in perfect unison.

"So...if Crow has his Silent Night, what do you have Craig?" Veru asked. Craig frowned.

"It was a Gatling gun I called 'CZ57 Avenger'. I thought it was pretty badass. And...it kinda meant something to me..." He trailed off. Veru half-expected Crow to make a comment about Craig's sentimentality, but he remained silent.

She had to know what it meant. When she asked, he responded sullenly. "Not right now. Just...later. I don't like thinking about it." She nodded in understanding. "I'll see you guys later. I'm...I'm gonna take the rest of the day off." He said, the without waiting for a response, Spartan-43 Craig Cogburn walked off.


	4. What doesn't kill you

Alright, alright. If you were wondering about the huge delay in the last chapter, it was 'cause I was distracted by friends and school. Let's...just get back to this.

O

Veru 'Thamal was on her way to Captain Cutter's office. She left the Female Quarters. It wasn't very private, and most of the Spartans were...not as accepting as Craig and Crow were. She chose to skip breakfest, as humans called it, and go straight for the Cutter. Craig, her first -if not only- friend on Earth was an early riser, so probably was at a Pelican hub. He was always...alert. Restless. Of course, she'd never actually seen him sleep, but he was probably waking up from time to time. Sangheli needed sleep, so humans probably would as well.

They'd been friends for about a human week. In that time, they'd battled together, learning where the other was weak, the other strong. They made a good team after they learned what the other tended to do. Craig was a skilled fighter, but was truly amazing when he had a Gatling gun. He avoided Rocket Launchers though, said they were useless against anything but large vehicles.

Veru was much better driving than on foot, but could still handle herself. She liked using mid-short range weapons, they were the most versatile, which suited the Sangheli combat style: Swift, adaptable, and precise.

Craig had also been letting her in on his past. Which even Crow said was pretty rare. And that Craig was the kind of guy that you really had to force to talk. But you also had to know when to simply' "Shut the fuck up" as he put it. But she never prodded very far, so Craig never had to talk about it. But, being the curious alien she was, she was always wondering why he didn't like it. So she went to Captain Cutter, who Craig had said was "The man he respected the living fuck out of".

She knocked on the door. She heard the Captain's voice welcome her, and she went inside. He looked a bit suprised, but calmed himself. He realized it wasn't an Elite trying to kill him. He stood and leaned over his desk, extending a welcoming hand. She took it and they shook. She'd learned from Craig that that was the way humans greeted each other.

"I'm Captain Cutter. What can I do for...You're Craig's friend, aren't you? I saw you a few days ago. After that fight. I never learned what happened, by the way."

"His name was Ripa 'Trantant. Since I'm one of the few females here, and I was the bondmate of a Ranger, he wants me as a consort. He's what you humans would call a "Prick" and a..."Womanizer" I think."

"I see. So what brings you here?" Cutter asked as Veru took a seat. She gave a few testing bounces and he couldn't help but smile little bit. When they're not glassing planets or killing Marines, they're cute. In a weird sort of way.

"Craig talks about you a decent amout. Like you're the man he respects most. And a person named Betty. I wanted to know something about that. And he pushes me away when I try to get any information out, so..."

"I see. He respects me because I made a considerable impact on him. I got to know him when he was stationed on my ship, the Spirit of Fire. I even risked a Pelican to save him when he was scouting in a Scorpion. And he metioned Betty?" He asked, and without a response, continued. "I didn't know much about her, to be honest. All I knew was that he and her were pretty close. Two of the first three Spartans to face the Covenant. If it weren't for them, Spartans wouldn't have energy shields."

"Really? That's how you humans got them..."

"But here's a report on the mission where she was confirmed KIA. Go to Sgt. Buck. He's the only one alive. Other than Craig." Veru thanked him immensely and before she left, Cutter asked her why she was here in the first place. With a quick explanation, she was gone.

On her walk down to Buck, she looked over the report. She could read just enough English to understand most of it. But it didn't give any details on what happened. So that's why Captain Cutter sent her here. She looked right and saw a group of four ODST's lounging.

"Excuse me," she said. They all tensed, but then remembered that Elites were allies now. She hated that people flinched when they saw her. "Are you Sgt. Buck?"

"That's me." He said, standing up. He looked as if it were still the war and she'd ambushed him. "Why?"

"You went on a mission with Spartan-43. I know him, and he constantly brings up a female named Betty. I obtained a copy of the report from Captain Cutter, and you were listed."

"Ah." Was the only word he said. But his eyes said more. They wanted to say all the feelings he had about that mission. "_That_ mission." He shifted uncomfortably, remembering all the rage Craig held. He shuddered at the visual his memories forced onto him. "See, he and Betty were...close. If you get what I mean."

"If you're implying something, no I don't."

"Oh...well...they were _real_ close." No response telling him she'd gotten it. "They...they were the first ones to mate with each other." She nodded in understanding. They were bondmates. And being the first one to mate with another was probably an important concpet for humans, Veru guessed. "So we were all hot-dropped near a base..."

O

_Four figures all crouched down near one another. A few hand signals were given by one, and they split up. Two went left, two right. They split ways, staying hidden in the thick jungle growth. It was the dead of night, insects chirping thier little songs. The largest one of the group clenched his rifle tighter. "43," He heard an ODST say over the comm channel, "Take the hill to the North-East." Craig moved quickly up the hill, straining for his steps not to make noise._

_A grunt stood unwarily at the top. Slowly, Craig pulled a combat knife from his chest gaurd. His pauldrons, standard MK-V, thankfully allowed him to swiftly bury his knife hilt-deep into the unsuspecting Grunt's neck. It make a small squeak as it died._

_Perfect._

_One last thing to do: Prop up the corpse as though he was just naping, not missing a jugular. "Ready." He declared in a whisper._

_"I'll take the first shot." Sgt. Matad declared. "Pick a target. I'm taking the Brute near the comm station."_

_"I'll take the comm station itself. Let's give these Covie bastards a scare!"_

_"I'll take the Jackal sniper."_

_"43, picked one?" Matad questioned. Craig told him he had a target, not to worry. Centering the crosshairs on the Brute's helmet, he breathed out and fired._

_Half of the Brute's head was spontaneaously missing. As well as their comm link, and their sniper. But what about number four? Matad could only guess until he was lifted and turned to face an angry Brute Cheiftan. The Sgt prepared for the end until he was dropped abrubtly at the sound of a Sniper shot._

_"I told you I had a target." Craig boasted unfazed. Matad cursed under his breath. How did a Brute sneak up on him? The SOB was about to pump a few spikes into his gut! And why didn't Craig warn him?_

_"Thank you, sir." Sgt. Matad said from instinct._

_"What? Just a 'Thank you, sir?' is all I get?" Craig said sarcastically. "But don't worry. I just do it for my country."_

_Even more sarcasm._

_"Will you two lovebirds stop diddlefucking and join the firefight?"_

_They both realized they hadn't been shooting. "R-i-i-i-ght."_

_O_

_Once they rest of the hostiles were eliminated, Craig quickly ran down the hall. He smiled under his MK V visor. Betty'd have no toruble getting out. He looked over his shoulder, making sure the ODST's were following. Cpl. Buck ran through, Sgt. Matad, and Pfc's Samuel and Nate all made it in. But Craig didn't slow down to let them catch up. One: He wanted to see his first love, and the faster he extracted her, the less time the Covenant had to send a Spirit._

_He rounded a corner and sprinted. This _had_ to be the way._

_Unfortunately, it was._

_Once Craig deactivated the barrier, Betty stepped slowly out. Craig held out his arms, smiling warmly behind his helemt, and he de-polarized the visor, making it so she could see his eyes. Of course, the Brutes had stripped her of hear armor. And of course they'd beaten her for information. So that explained the blood. But Betty...she was a tough bitch. Nothing got to her. Call her the dirtiest thing you can think of, she'll brush it off. It it got to her, you'd be flat on your ass. If you were lucky, you just got a better insult back._

_Most of the other Spartans couldn't see how they went well together. But they were a squad. You learned to get along with your squad._

_She always had those eyes. The eyes that fire lasers of confidence. Swagger. One look from them and you either look away or you blush._

_Not anymore._

_Her eyes were broken. She was trembling. Every little move of Craig's made her flinch. She looked near tears. She was _never _in tears. _

_Never._

_Her eyes looked to his hip. His .45 rested in it's holster. She lunged for it, and took Craig by suprise. He was too stunned by the way she was. It was horrifying to see a Spartan this way. He barely stopped her from bringing the gun to her temple._

_"What are you doing?" He asked, shellshocked. He held her hand for a few seconds, allowing them a moment. Her eyes narrowed in sadness, and she flicked them down. He followed. There was blood, of course, but mostly between her legs._

_Craig put two and two together._

_He stepped back, letting go of the .45 in her hand. He stepped back in shock, anguish, and shame. "Be-..." He trailed off, unable to find his voice._

_She remained silent, only lifting the gun towards her temple. The cocked the gun, and looked deeply into her lover's eyes. She didn't want it to end like this._

_But after what they did to her...there was no other way._

"So...she killed herself?" Veru didn't wait for an answer. "What did Craig do then?" Buck leaned forward and closed his eyes, pressing his fingers into them. It was the only way to stop the ache that was made of all the things Craig did.

"God, what he did. Still gives me nightmares sometimes. I don't know exactly what happened, but I heard the screams. It was just the most horresndous, agony-filled, blood-curdling screams I've ever heard. I remember what he did to the Chieftan though."

"What was that?"

He cursed under his breath. "He quite literally shoved his size thirten boot shin-high up his ass. I'm not making this shit up. I couldn't."

Veru was silent for a good long while. She quickly stood, and thanked Buck for sharing the story. He only muttered and waved her off. He didn't like to remember that mission.

A few hours later, Craig managed to find her. "Hey, Veru..." He trailed off, holding his hand behind his head. He held his helmet under his arm. "I just...wanted to ask that...well, maybe you'd...I don't know, like to spend the day together? Or something?" He asked nervously.

"Why?"

"Umm...well, I guess I want to know more about you." He sighed. "Could you please say 'Yes'. This is akward enough as is."

"Sure. It sounds...fun." She chuckled. He relaxed instantly.

"Thanks. Oh, and if you want to hear a story about my past, come to me, alright?"

A/N

I buckled my ass down and got to writing. So there. Enjoy. And tune in next time to see just how akward it gets!


	5. Chapter 5

Hey. I am really unispired for this. I mean to the point where I just wanna quit. This story is really not going to do much in the terms of action. Maybe later, but it's mostly just retelling Craig's past. I'm not sure, but it may be discontinued. I know, I know. But it's all just flashbacks. A little bit of Veru's awkwardness, a heartwarming moment. But that's it.

If you want, send me what you would do. If I like it, think you're work's good enough, you can own Affections Trancends Species.


	6. Final Entry for now

Listen. I've decided what to do with Affections Trancends Species. I know I simply don't have the time for it right now. So it's discontinued until I get other works done. Sorry. But it was really leading nowhere, other than sex with Craig and Veru. That's really it. The only other way I can do a Halo story is if it's a dark one, where it may end badly. It'll be during his time on the Spirit of Fire, and the battles it took place in.


	7. Chapter 7

I think I know what I'm going to do with this. Is kinda gonna be a story where Craig, Crow, and Betty are stationed on the Spirit of Fire. Kinda Halo-Warsy. IT'll have a good fling of romance. Tell me what you think of it.


End file.
